Page 53 of The Interview
He kisses my nose, stands, then heads back to our bathroom, leaving me on our bed, my brain and insides buzzing, my skin prickling at my husband’s words, while I once again wonder how I got so fucking lucky.
“Stop overthinking it all, Kitten. Just get in here and suck my cock,” he calls out over the sound of running water.
Happily, I oblige.
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
GEORGIA
My house is eerily quiet when I walk into my kitchen after joining my husband for my second shower of the morning. Don West’s soulful voice plays quietly over the sound system, but none of my humans can be seen.
“Mum?” Lu’s voice calls from somewhere up the hallway, and I know just by the tone that she wants something. “Can you come in here a sec?”
“Where’s here?” I call back as I make an about turn and head for the hallway.
“Dad’s office.”
When I walk through the door, Cam’s leaning back in his leather desk chair. It’s pushed back, and his legs are stretched out in front of him, his fingers laced together behind his head. Dressed in a plain black tee, grey joggers, hair still damp from our shower, and his salt and pepper stubble covering his jaw, he looks delicious. Now in his sixties, my husband is hotter than when we first met, and despite what we’ve just done in the shower, I want to ride his face all the way back to our bed. Butour kids are situated around the room, and they’re all looking at me.
My husband arches a dark brow my way, then wiggles both. A flashback of the way he had me spread on his desk last weekend, when we had the house to ourselves, instantly pushes its way to the forefront of my mind. Cam remained sat in his chair, while I was flat on my back, legs bent and spread, feet up on the desk as he ate me out.
Heat travels from my neck to my cheeks.
Knowing full well what he’s doing, he winks.
In an attempt at playing him at his own game, I lick my lips.
“Seriously, will you two get a room?” Lu interrupts our moment.
“What’s up?” I ask, ignoring her comment as I walk around the desk and sit on Cam’s lap so I can look at the four of them all sitting on the sofa against the wall across from us.
“We were wondering,” Harry, always the spokesman for the four of them, starts. “After everything you told us this morning…”
My heart sinks down to my belly, which is now doing forward rolls as I brace for what he’s about to say. Cam knocks my thumb from where I hadn’t even realised it was between my teeth before his arm tightens to give me a little squeeze of reassurance. I’m not sure if I tensed or if we’re just so in tune that he could feel my stress levels rising.
“We’ve all got mates or know someone who’s had their drink spiked—blokes and birds. Some have had lucky escapes, some haven’t. A couple have become seriously unwell, and some have never fully recovered from the mental trauma it caused them.”
“Not any of you, though, right? You’re not talking about any of you?” My mum brain instantly springs into action, but Tallulah shuts it down.
“I told him he needed to start by saying it’s never happened to any of us. I knew you’d freak out and jump straight to that conclusion.”
“Chill,” Cam whispers in my ear while I wonder where this conversation is going. “Just hear them out,” he says as he wraps another arm around me.
“We’ve chatted to Dad about it, and he’s on board with the clubs getting involved, but we were wondering if the Triple M Foundation would be willing to fund an advertising campaign to raise awareness of the dangers of drink spiking?”
“I was thinking,” Lu says. “Maybe get the design team or one of the outside designers you use?”
“Gracie Baby would be perfect for this,” Kiki interrupts, and Jimmie’s words from last night about no one in this house ever getting to finish what they’re saying because we all constantly interrupt each other come back to me.
“Youwould saythat,” Lu retorts while Kiks rolls her eyes, leaving me totally confused by their little exchange.
“Anyway, yeah. Gracie Babywouldactually be perfect to design lids for glasses, like in a little pack of various sizes. Maybe made of silicone, so they’re light and can fit in a handbag or back pocket or whatever,” Lu continues.
I’m listening to what my daughters are saying, and agree, what they’re suggesting would work. Although this conversation is not what I was expecting when I entered the room, my brain is now going off on all sorts of tangents.
“Okay, so that’s prevention covered. What about the victims? What about all those impacted by this scummy act?”
